It was a typical afternoon, driving home from preschool. Tess sat in the backseat, shoes off, a fruit snack smeared on her leggings, gazing out the window. Then she said it. “Mom Lizzie says you’re the evil one. She’s the kind mom.”
My hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. I kept my voice calm, asking her to tell me more. At home, while Tess napped, I retrieved the nanny cam I’d hidden months ago, just in case. I scrolled through the footage, heart pounding. There they were—Daniel and Lizzie—sitting on my couch. His hand rested on her arm; he kissed her temple. Not a surprise, but still a gut punch. I didn’t scream or cry. I took screenshots, printed them, and contacted a lawyer.
